


Pup

by squeakylids



Series: A mutt's life [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bobby has a secret, F/M, Family Secrets, Fluff and Angst, Gen, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Bobby Singer, Papa Bobby, Protective Bobby Singer, Secrets, Tags May Change, Uncle Rufus, Warnings May Change, Werewolf Reveal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2018-12-31 04:09:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12124206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squeakylids/pseuds/squeakylids
Summary: Every story has to start somewhere





	1. Crib

Karen's blood was still splattered on my face as I stood above my daughter's crib, looking down at the innocent, sleeping contents contained within.

My life as I knew it, everything I had known to be real or myth, was over.

I could hear the man, Rufus he'd called himself, cleaning up the mess that was left of Karen. It was still hard to comprehend, my sweet loving Karen turning into that... monster. I had watched my own hand in disbelief as I'd buried that kitchen knife in her chest in a desperate attempt to save myself and our daughter, but still, she had come at me trying to get to the hallway that led to the Nursery. At that moment there had been no Karen, just the mutating monster in front of me, and I knew I had to stop her before she got to Anne-Marie. So I had attacked my wife again with every intention of doing whatever I had to do to protect my little girl, even as Karen had thrown me across the kitchen, turning on me with a savage snarl to finish me off. The front of her nightgown slick and shiny with her blood, her face twisting into something inhuman, and in that moment she was something from my worst nightmares. Nothing of my wife had been in those feral eyes as she had flown at me. And then Rufus had kicked in the door.

A single gunshot and Karen crumpled to the old kitchen linoleum, still and lifeless, in almost the exact same spot my father had died, a lifetime ago.  I sat there, watching her blood slowly pool on the yellow flower pattern, and tried to comprehend what had just happened.

My wife was dead, and she had been going after our one-month-old infant.

Karen had been one week shy of exactly nine months pregnant when we'd been jumped outside of the local diner, which I found out later had been the thing responsible for the drastic turn my life took that night.

It had been past midnight, but it was too hot that late August night for Karen to sleep in her condition, so we had been going out for a late night milkshake.  We'd been a sappy expectant couple, her sipping the sweet vanilla treat while I felt the baby shift around in her stomach.  She had been smiling at my amazed expression then as I'd felt our child move, almost like the kid was doing a happy dance.  The life that was growing inside her never ceased to amaze me, because it was like magic being a part of this.

A kid had never been in my plans and I was scared shitless at the prospect of being a father, but Karen had soothed my fears.  When she had announced that she was pregnant my mind had spun, immediately bringing to the forefront my childhood.  My blood had turned to ice at the memory of the kind of man my father had been, and the potential that I carried that within myself as well.  She'd been able to read my mind, and had finally convinced me that no, I would never be my father, that I was a good man.  When I had tried to argue with her she'd pointed out how much I had doted on her with a laugh.  She had been more worried about me spoiling the kid to death than any of the bullshit I had running around in my brain and had told me that every single time my fears had assaulted me.  The way she described how she saw me though, well, let's just say I was desperate to be that man for her and our kid.

After she had been done with the shake we'd been walking back to the car when a guy had lurched out of the shadows at us, thankfully going after me and not Karen.  I'd tried to fight him off, but he had been inhumanly strong, tossing me around as if I was nothing.  Even pregnant, Karen hadn't abandoned me and had grabbed at the man as he had grappled with me, screaming for help.  The crazy guy had bitten her arm, not severely but just enough to bleed, in retaliation before he'd fled into the darkness, thankfully not hurting her any further.  I would have chased after him, but the excitement caused Karen's water to break right there on the sidewalk.

We'd rushed off to the hospital.  The bite had been cleaned and treated and a police report taken between contractions, and my heart had been in my throat in fear for every second of it.  I hadn't let go of her hand even once the whole time until the nurse had stepped over to me with a smile in the delivery room. Instinctively I had reached out as the beaming woman handed me a small bundle wrapped in a soft green blanket.  I was not ashamed to admit that I had cried as I had the precious little squalling thing in my arms, forgetting about the attack in the face of the miracle I held.  They had held them for observation for a few days, but within 72 hours we had been on the way home, as a family.

Even though it was a little early, she had given birth to a healthy baby girl.  Anne-Marie Singer had ten perfect fingers, and ten perfect toes, a mop of dark hair, and alert dark little eyes that took in everything, and she was my world.

Now?  As I stood over the crib that I had laid my daughter down in just a few hours ago and stared at what it contained, I didn't know what to do.  The man, Rufus, came into the room behind me and glanced over my shoulder at the contents of the crib before he swore.  I tensed, not knowing what he was going to do, but knowing I wasn't about to let him hurt my little girl, no matter what she had become.

He didn't move for a moment as he hovered in the silence behind me, just standing there before he finally spoke,  "Well, shit, that's a new one."


	2. the difference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby weighs in on an argument between the Winchesters about Sam going to college.
> 
> Companion chapter: Woof: Beer

She was pacing agitatedly by the door, constantly looking out the window as I stood behind one of the chairs in the living room.  Sitting across from one another in silence John and Sam both had active ticks in their jaw as they fumed in the heavy atmosphere.  This fight had been raging for hours, and it wasn't the kind of fight that most parents had with their kids. Most parents fought with their kids about wrecking the car, or a high phone bill, or if they caught them with a beer or a cigarette.  Most parents don't blow up into a rage when their kid announced that they want to go to law school.

Most parents were generally stoked when their children wanted to go to college.

Heated words had been exchanged, and not too long ago Dean had sped off in the Impala in a justified fury at a cutting remark from John, leaving everyone behind.  Dakota was not taking the separation well, as she was the only source of noise in the whole house as she moved about in agitation, her nails clicking on the hardwood as she paced, the occasional whine escaping her.  When she finally stopped and looked up at me, I could read her mind, but she was moving even as I was the one to break the silence.

"God damn it, Dakota don't you _dare_..."

Even as I was speaking she was dropping her weight on the door next to the latch, causing it to pop open from the force.  She didn't even glance back as I swore and surged forward to no avail, watching as she bolted off into the darkness.

"Where did she go?"  Sam's voice was tense.

"After your brother, where else?"  I huffed as I looked out into the night, a mix of frustrated, angry and just worried as all hell.

John scoffed, and not for the first time I wanted to punch him.  "Why the hell would your dog do that?"

I rolled my eyes, my temper finally getting the better of me as I rounded on the man.  The slamming of my front door startled them out of their staring contest, and suddenly they were both looking up at me.

"I don't know _John_ , maybe because your kid and my dog have been attached at the hip since they _met_. Maybe if you paid attention to your children once in a while you would _notice_  shit about them more than their aim!"

Sam's hazel eyes were wide as saucers at my outburst just as John's livid face went red.  He surged to his feet, facing off with me, his eyes full of rage, but I didn't back down.  I was in too deep, and damn it, I loved these boys like they were my own, and they deserved to be happy.

"Sam wants to go to college, John, _COLLEGE!_  Not join a damned cult!  Most parents would be over the moon to find out that their kid could potentially score a full ride!  Your boy is _SMART_.  This should make you _PROUD_."  I bellowed.

John's lips thinned, and his words were clipped.  "And he's more than welcome to do that.   _Once_  we kill yellow-eyes."

The scoff escaped me before I could stop it.  "Oh, so your boys have to put their whole lives on hold while you get your revenge, is that it?"

"That _thing_  killed their _mother_  and tried to kill _Sam_. I have to make sure it _never_  gets the chance to finish the job." he snarled, his voice barely controlled.

"Oh?  And how much longer will it be?  How much longer will Sam have to live under your 'protection' before you let him try to have a life?  Another sixteen years?"

The silence was brittle, but I wasn't willing to let this go.  It might not have been the most tactful way to put it, but using his reasoning of protecting Sam as the reason to keep him from being able to try and live a life was nothing more than an excuse.  John was driven by a need for revenge, not out of some paternal drive to protect his sons.  It was in that moment that the differences between the two of us became as apparent as night and day.  I was a hunter because of what happened to Karen, that was true, but there was _nothing_  I wouldn't sacrifice to keep my baby girl safe. I didn't need to go out and hunt down the thing that had done this to us so I could sleep at night.  In that moment, with that rage on his face, I had to wonder if maybe John didn't have anything he wasn't willing to sacrifice for revenge.

He pushed passed me without a word, and I didn't even flinch when I heard glass break somewhere in the house as the front door slammed behind him.  God, what a mess.

Turning my attention to the silent teen on the couch, I sighed.  Sam swallowed nervously, his expression unsure as he stared at me with those big eyes that had killed me every time they had asked after his daddy when he'd been a kid.  He was growing up into a man that John could be proud of if only he could _see_  that through his anger.  I knew I was proud as hell of both the boys.

"You hungry?" I asked him.

He swallowed again, and nodded, still not saying anything as we moved into the kitchen, claiming the same seat he'd been sitting in since he'd been four years old as I opened the freezer and grabbed Anne-Marie's ice-cream.  I'd get her a refill in the morning, it was going to a good cause.


	3. Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ballet recital

My daughter had grown up into an amazing young woman. Pretty enough to turn heads, talented, smart, driven; my little girl was my idol. I know a lot of fathers like to think that, but considering everything we had been through? Everything that she had been able to master and overcome? I was proud as hell of my little girl.

So you can bet your ass I was sitting in the front row for her first semi-professional ballet performance. My seventeen-year-old princess had landed the role of the Black Swan, which she told me was an incredibly coveted role. Her every waking hour had been spent in the cleared out living room, her pointe shoes thumping against the old floorboards as she practiced until the movements seemed to be as natural as breathing to her. She had been beaming from the praise of the performance's director at the dress rehearsal. I was over the moon with pride, practically bursting at the seams at the praise from a man that she had more than once angrily referred to as "that asshole". I couldn't wait to see her actual stage debut.

The fact that Rufus Turner had shown up as well had been a bit of a surprise, however. I was right to be shocked given how pissed he'd been when I'd started allowing my then ten-year-old daughter to start taking dance lessons. We'd had a huge blow up over it, and for a while, the only time we'd heard from Rufus had been the odd phone call to see how we were getting along. In reality, the old bear gave no shits about me, but I knew he cared a lot for my Anne-Marie.

When a few years had passed with no mishaps he'd started coming around again, and I knew that Anne-Marie was grateful to have him back in her life. There were very few people the kid fully trusted, but Rufus would always be one of them.

"Don't give me that look, Singer, you were still an idiot for letting her take the lessons in the first place." he groused as he settled into the seat next to me.

"And yet here you are."

"Yet here I am," he agreed, pursing his lips in annoyance, glaring at the people around us that were probably curious as to why two guys such as ourselves were sitting front row in a classical Ballet.

We didn't say anything further as the lights dimmed and settled back to watch my baby girl be a star.


	4. pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby comes home to a messy kitchen.

"Anne-Marie, what on gods green earth are you doing?!" I demanded as the door swung open to reveal the disaster scene before me.

I stood in the doorway of the kitchen and watched my seven-year-old furiously mixing something in a bowl, her tongue sticking out of her mouth as she bit it in concentration. She was wearing her favorite snoopy pajamas with her hair still in the messy braid she had slept in, sitting on the floor with the bowl in her lap. The floor was liberally littered with what looked to be mashed cherries, flour, and at least three eggs, the milk on the table tipped onto its side and leaking all over everything. Every cupboard and cabinet was open, and there were cooking implements strewn everywhere. Her hands were stained an alarming red from her fingertips to her elbows, and there were sticky handprints on more than one surface, including the open-faced cookbook.

Good lord, what a _mess_.

"I'm making a pie," she replied as she scowled at the blue speckled stoneware, reaching in with a stained bare hand to pull something out of it.

"Oh, are you now?" I crossed my arms and leaned on the door jab, trying to school my face into a frown over the mess instead of the grin I wanted to wear, because despite everything my little girl was absolutely adorable.

"Mmmm," she confirmed absentmindedly, scowling at the contents of the bowl again, "but it's not coming out good."

I sighed and chuckled before I moved across the messy floor to crouch in front of her and look into the mixing bowl, "Oh? Why is that?"

When she looked up at me her lower lip was stuck out in a full pout, her eyes wet as she sniffed, "I forgot about the seeds."

"Oh, that's ok sweetheart," I leaned forward and kissed her forehead, "everyone forgets about things like that. Now, why don't you tell me why you suddenly decided to make a pie? I thought you didn't like pie?"

"I don't," she confirmed with a nod.

"So then why are you making one?" I asked again.

"Because _Dean_  likes pie," she pouted.

Ah. "And you wanted to make him one for his birthday?" I asked, glancing over at the calendar where I had marked his birthday down, which was in two days.

John was scheduled to show up with the boys that evening too, but they were just passing through.

"Well, he didn't get any last year."

That rocked me back on my heels a bit, clearly remembering my little girl bursting into my room the year before, her face tear-streaked as she had sobbingly told me that Dean's birthday had come and gone with no one being the wiser. Wailing she had told me that he had been crying out in the yard over it, and I'd had to choose between calming down my hysterically upset little girl and dealing with an emotionally scarred little boy. I'd wanted to punch John in his stupid brawny face when I had found out, but I'd had more important things to worry about at the time.

Now though...

"That's a brilliant idea honey. I think he'll love a pie, but why don't we get this mess cleaned up and we'll go pick up one in town, ok? Then, we can practice a bit and you can make one for him next year, ok?" I offered.

She sniffled, rubbing a cherry stained hand under her nose as she looked up at me with those big warm brown eyes of hers. "You promise?"

I reached out and rubbed her flour-dusted head and smiled down at my angel, "I promise. Do you know what flavor he likes?" 

"Cherry."


	5. Blue Parrot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby gets into an argument with his daughter about being undercover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Companion chapter: Woof: Ch.3 Miss Dakota

"You were posing as a stripper?! God _damnit_  Anne-Marie, you _know_  how I feel about that!" I bellowed the moment I heard the sound of the Impala pull out of the parking lot to be sure the boys were going back to their motel. I didn't give a whit if the walls were thin enough that we could disturb the neighbors, I was pissed.

When she had come rushing into the motel room in a panic the night before, her hair flying about her stricken face, I'd been on my feet expecting hellhounds to be on her heels.

I had not expected her to shakily tell me that she'd run into the boys at the strip club she had been checking out due to the fact that two vics from our latest case had ties there. It wasn't the first time Anne-Marie had identified another hunter on a case that didn't know her when she was walking around on two legs, but it was the first time I had seen her jarred by it. It wasn't until I met up with the boys the next morning and they told me about her that I understood why she had been so shaken.

I rounded to see her naked back to me as she pulled something out of the bag of clothes she had packed for this hunt. Her movements were sharp and jerky, and I knew she was as invested in this fight as I was.

"Don't you _dare_  start that crap old man," my baby girl snarled, her dark eyes flashing as she spun on me as she jerked a t-shirt angrily over her head, "First of all, they're called exotic dancers, don't be that asshole because we've already had _that_  fight and if you remember you _lost it spectacularly_ , and _second_  there's **NOTHING** wrong it!"

" _ **Nothing** wrong with it?!_ " I cried, throwing my hands up as I watched my daughter angrily gather her impossibly long hair into a messy knot on the back of her head, the t-shirt that hung down to her mid thigh I noticed was Dean's again, "You're my _daughter_  and you were _shaking your ass_  in your goddamned _underwear_  in front of an entire room full of strange goddamned men! Christ, in front of _Dean_  and _Sam_!"

She flushed in distress at that and dropped her eyes as they flitted with a chagrin that broke my heart for her, "yeah... don't remind me," she muttered as she reached into the bag and grabbed a pair of leggings.

She turned her back to me as she pulled them on, and I knew my little girl well enough to give her a moment. After she pulled the pants up she sighed heavily and looked at the ceiling, collecting herself before she turned back to me, her face resigned. She gave me a helpless shrug, her hands slapping loudly against her thighs when she dropped her arms, and there was something about the move that spoke volumes.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you that was what I was planning on doing when I told you I was going to scope out the strip club, I just kinda figured it would be a quick way to try and get some information, and I didn't want to fight with you over gathering intel."

"There are other ways to _do_  that though," I argued angrily unable to let it go, earning me an eye roll and another exaggerated thigh slapping shrug.

"There's more than one way to do anything pops," came the retort. There was something in her voice that gave me pause, something I had never heard before and it made my concern shift, "and running into those guys was just... bad luck." She turned back away from me, and I don't know if she knew I heard her say, "the worst fuckin' luck."

With that she picked up one of the research books off the stack on the table set up between the beds, flopping down onto the mattress in a way that clearly showed she didn't want to talk to me about it anymore. I knew if I pressed the issue she would just drop down to all fours again, and then the conversation would be truly one-sided. I needed to cool my head a little before I tried to talk to her about it again, because if nothing else my girl had inherited my temper and my stubborn streak. She'd made that perfectly clear when she had spent the better part of over three years as a goddamned canine instead of a person after my standoff with John.

I knew I was overreacting to her dancing, and she was totally right; there was nothing wrong with a woman deciding to be an exotic dancer. A woman had the right to do whatever she wanted with her body, and there was no shame in a woman being confident in herself. I had raised my daughter to be one of those women, full of a sense of how wonderful and valuable she really was as a person, no matter what. God forbid anyone, especially me, told her that there was something that she couldn't do because she was already limited enough in life, and we were both well aware of it.

Still, it was still easier to be objectively ok with the idea of something than actually being ok with the reality. There was no way, in hell, I would ever be ok with anyone actually sexually objectifying my baby girl, and I was irrationally pissed that Sam and Dean probably already were.


	6. I know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam figures it out.

"I know."

Sam was sitting in my kitchen, his long legs kicked out in a sprawl against the old linoleum flooring as he sat with his body turned to face me, his huge hand resting leisurely around the bottle of beer he had on the table. At twenty-two, I honestly hoped the kid was done growing because I didn't think it was possible for the kid to get much taller. His body posture was relaxed, but the moment I saw the careful schooling to his features and the calculating look in his eye as he watched me clean my shotgun the hairs on my arms stood up.

"What is it you know, boy?" I asked him very carefully.

He didn't blink as he brought his beer up to his lips, his expression very careful and his words, while not loud, were clear.

"I know about Dakota."

The only sound that could be heard in the entire house was the ticking of the clock on the wall, which was the only thing that told me that time hadn't stopped. My blood went to ice in my veins as I looked at the boy I had helped raise and wondered just what the hell was gonna happen now. The girl was out, at that exact moment, with Dean grabbing lunch for us all.

"What is it you think you know?" I finally asked him.

"I know that Dakota is some kind of shifter or something and that you've been keeping her here secretly for a long time. I know that she was the one who saved me that one time from the Vamps."

"Why would you think she's a shifter?" My voice was careful because I wasn't sure if he was fishing or not.

"You've had the same damned dog for almost twenty years, Bobby. The cover story is good and all, and probably works with people who aren't around you as much as we are, but I'm not _stupid_. She'd not a dog. She can't be. So is that what happened? Did dad find out? It wasn't because of me?"

Silence and seconds ticked by as we stared at each other. His last question had been quiet, his voice like the kid I had pretty much raised whenever he was unsure if he had done the right thing or not, and I realized he blamed himself for what happened between me and John.

'What happened' was in reference to me almost filling his father with buckshot. One stupid silver ring against the sensitive flesh of Anne-Marie's canine nose as he had pet her and the cat had been out of the bag with me and John facing off with my cowering child behind me. The look on John's face as he had spoken to me about betrayal and putting his children in danger had been visceral, and there had been more than one low blow in the vitriol. The whole standoff hadn't lasted long, and I had been very clear in the fact that if John went after my girl in any way it would be the last thing he would ever do. I hadn't seen him or the boys since then, not until the day Dean called me because his father was missing.

It wouldn't have helped to point out to John at the time that the _only_  reason Sam hadn't been killed by a Vamp nest when he was fifteen was because of Anne-Marie. Not only because my Daughter had saved him, but because she had then carried Sam all the way to a hospital, which was where we had found him. It didn't matter to him that my baby girl was his eldest son's best friend in the whole world either and that they had been in each other's immediate proximity for over half of the boy's lives. John couldn't even wrap his head around the fact that his boys had been brought up next to my little girl from the moment he'd dumped them on my hands when they had been just kids, and they had always been safe. All he had seen when he had realized the truth was a monster.

Anne-Marie hadn't handled the sudden absence of the boys from her life well at all either and had spent the better part of three years simply as Dakota over it. When Dean had called me for help looking for the old man after almost four years of silence, I had been surprised, but not half as surprised as when Dean had grinningly asked me if I still kept around a 'Dakota' when I opened my front door. It was that moment I realized that John had never told them, and with them stepping over my threshold I had not only gotten my boys, but also my daughter, back.

"Yeah, he found out," I finally answered, "does your brother know?"

"Pfft, no," Sam scoffed derisively, "he lives in constant denial because it would mean that his best gal is a monster and he couldn't live with that. He's too much like dad."

I was terrified of that thought.

"The only other person who knows is Rufus," I told him honestly as I set the cleaning stuff down, clasping my hands in front of me as I leaned onto my elbows and looked at the man I had known for most of his life, deciding I needed to be straight with him, "and the reason I never said anything is because she is my daughter."

Sam straightened in his seat, his expression registering his complete shock as he shoved the beer aside, " _What_ _?_ "

And so I told him the whole story, from Karen's attack to Rufus' intervention to the fact that I secretly raised a daughter who defied the basic description of either a skinwalker or a werewolf and seemed to be a mashup of the two instead. The boy didn't say anything, just sat there and listened to every word I had to say. When I was done all that could be heard was the sound of the clock again as he just absorbed the story and all of its connotations.

A whine broke the silence, and we both looked towards the kitchen door where Dakota was standing, her face full of fear as she watched Sam. He pushed away from the table and walked over to her, and I watched as she tried not to cower away from him, scared as to how he was going to react. He towered over her for a moment before he dropped down into a crouch and rested his hand on her head between her ears.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, "for saving me that time, and... for all the other things."

I could hear her tail thumping against the wall as elation and relief washed over her, and she licked his cheek enthusiastically, making him laugh even as Dean bellowed for help with the food he was trying to bring through the front door.


End file.
